Views From The Space-Ship: a more perfect union

a more perfect union

A more perfect union, yo.

Hate and the hindbrain.

A more perfect union, yo.

The monsters and the levers.

A more perfect union, yo.

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Monday Morning Commute: The Sky Above Was Neon

monday morning commute the sky above was neon

I suppose, invariably, writing Monday Morning Commute on an actual Monday evening will find me: tired, stank-ass from the gym, palming my eye sockets attempting to figure out what to say. So, invariably, here we are. Here I am. Stank ass. Tired. Palming my eye sockets, praying to the Elder Ones to provide Divination. I’m tired, you’re tired. I’m somewhat fulfilled, in a somewhat fulfilling job, that compensates for its fulfillment by being tenuously existent from semester to semester, and perpetually stressful about said existence. But as the French Philosopher CaffPow once said, “C’est la adjunct life or some shit.” He said that. I said that. I hope you’re feeling at least as fulfilled as me, minus the stress, the perpetual scrotum-shrinking stress of contemplating the harrowing, horrifying prospects of what Next Semester Will Bring, less than a week into This Semester.

Fuck, fuck me, I’ve gotten myself off one of them Old Tangents. They used to be about how I beat my meat inconsolably to gifs of Katy Perry or some shit. Many moons ago. Now they’re just another tepid meat-case lamenting its tepidity whilst stuck in said meat-case, completely ignoring how Goddamn Good the meat-case has it Relative To So Much Of The World.

But, uh, buddy. Buddies. How are you folk-fuckers doing? What are you up to this week? Watching anything dope? What are you sweating? Anticipating playing anything dope? Sharing the answers to said questions is not cheating, folk-fuckers. No, in fact, it’s encouraged in this post here’s comments section. One could even say it’s the fucking raison d’être (the phrase popped into my head but truthfully I had to Google it to confirm it actually was a phrase) of this entire column. Generating a self-sustaining Community Bubble wherein we can share what we’re STOKED and JACKED for during a given week.

Me, this little ole devil? I’ll go first.

Hope to see you in the comments section! Folk-fuckers!

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Monday Morning Commute: For My Ally Is The Diet Dew


Ahoy, denizens of the Space-Ship Omega. Whether you’re a regular spending time in your own cabin on the Ship, or merely a smuggler stopping by for a refueling and some cheap protoplasmic omnisexual alien butt-poon before leaving, you’re all wonderful in my book. This is Monday Morning Commute, the column where all of us wayward organic meat-sacks share the various things we’re looking forward to on a given week. Or thinking about. Or anticipating. Or dreading.

Slide on up to the shit-smeared cantina bar, and knock back some synthetic oat sodas. Imma be quick with my own list though. It’s the first day back at the Helium Mining Factory on Asteroid X  and all the fumes got me dizzy. Rest assured you’ll find me lurking in the comments section though, pants-down, smile-applied.

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BRIAN WOOD and RICCARDO BURCHIELLI’s ‘DMZ’ getting TV adaptation.


Matty Roth lives! Fuck yes! First impression on hearing this news. DMZ coming to TV! Awesome! Second impression on hearing this news. Oh Fuck It’s On Syfy? Third impression on hearing this news. Some people from Mad Men are involved? Hope springs eternal!

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Monday Morning Commute: Tie Dye Projectile Vomit!

What’s up, fools? Would you know that Rendar Frankandbeans is straight up out of the country? Yeah, player. He’s on some magical mystery journey pretending he’s Ernest Hemingway or some shit. I have a nagging suspicion that he’s going to come back with the Great Grumpy White Guy Novel of the next century. Drop it on my desk and slap me across the face. It’s just brotherly love. With him meandering about, and the other of the OL Founding Fathers out of the country as well, I’m all alone.

I have no pants on. I’m eating laffy taffy by the bucketful. My children are quickly drying on my stomach. This is how life should be lived. Oh, who the fuck am I kidding? I have someone greater to answer to, one who inspires more fear and reverence than the two of them. Mrs. Caffeine Powered. Every day she’s with me is a fucking gift, one that I respect by only occasionally ripping ass and drooling on myself.

This column right here is MONDAY MORNING COMMUTE. Within the confines of this most Monday of columns, us capitalist grind monkeys share the various artistic afflictions that give us lives meaning amid the grind. For within these arts we cajole ourselves into enjoying ourselves, despite the banality of the everyday.

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Brian Wood On Comics Industry: ‘Everyone Is Bleeding’

I’m a huge, huge fan of Brian Wood and his works. More than that, I value his insight into the comic book industry as a whole. A couple of days ago he dropped some rather despair-slathered comments on the comic book industry, proclaiming that everyone is bleeding. And!, And that he’s already begun envisioning a day when his role in the comics world is reduced. Merry Christmas?

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WEEKEND OPEN BAR: Time To Put Down Watchmen, Fanboys.

[WEEKEND OPEN BAR: The one-stop ramble-about-anything weekend post at OL. Comment on the topic at hand. Tell us how drunk you are. Describe a comic you bought. This is your chance to bring the party.]

A couple of weeks ago I was talking to a few fellow graduate students waiting for a class to begin. They were all talking about what their final thesis was going to be on, when I decided to spurt nerd juice all over the crowd. “I want to work with comic books for mine”, I said. I wasn’t stunting, it’s my geeky aspiration.  An unimpressive woman with no chin turned and smiled at me. “Oh, you mean graphic novels.” The smile lingered. In my mind, fantasies of spin-kicks and flawless victories danced about. Her chin shattered into a thousand pixels of hate, her smile evaporated and an announcer bellowed “KO!”

I returned the smile and informed her no, I very much meant comic books. No need to dress it up in the high-brow artsy-fartsy name.

When she assailed the cred of my favorite medium, the first thing I wanted to do was pull out the typical parry. Watchmen. It’s at the tip of every fanboy’s tongue when the medium of comic books comes under assault. If it isn’t the first thing, it’s surely the second. Watchmen, Watchmen, Watchmen. Considered one of the greatest novels of all time. Deconstructs the superhero. Blah, blah, blah. Commentary on the conflict of ideologies in the Cold War. Blah blah. Watchmen, Watchmen, Watchmen.

But I didn’t say anything, I was tired of using that usual comic book as a defense. It was then that I realized: we need to come up with new stalwarts. New examples. We need to put Watchmen down.

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